


Freelancers

by Seeker38



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeker38/pseuds/Seeker38
Summary: Decades before taking a young salvager under his wing the freelancer mercenary Vandham finds himself thrust into a dangerous mission. A simple job freeing a small Titan from bandits turns into a chaotic situation where mysteries, politics, opposing ideologies, and conflicting goals push everyone involved to the brink.Canon to An Eternal History timeline.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Freelancer and Garfont

Vandham slammed the wooden mug down onto the table and let out a belch of pure satisfaction. “That hits the spot!”

The big fellow seated to his right had already slumped over onto the table and was snoring loudly. Vandham chuckled and plucked the bag of gold set between them and tossed into the air, catching it on the way down. “Nice doing business with ya.”

Ratchet, the ruddy faced bartender, rolled his eyes and poured a fresh mug of beer for Vandham. “Kid, you’re going to make some enemies if you keep this up. The type that won’t be satisfied just drinking you under the table.”

Vandham snorted and ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up. “I’m no kid. I’m twenty-two. And didn’t you see my pal over there?”

He pointed over his shoulder to the far corner of the room where Roc sat, chatting amicably with a pair of cute Ardanian women who were hanging off Roc’s shoulders. Women always seemed to find Roc positively adorable. They preened. That was a good word. Preened. “As long as I’ve got Roc to back me up I’m not so worried.”

Ratchet groaned and reached beneath the counter, grabbing a bag of nuts that he used to fill back up a bowl on the bar counter. “Drivers ain’t invincible kid.”

“Yeah, I know that more’n most folks. But what’s worrying going to get me? I’ll drink, I’ll fight, and I’ll make a life for myself. Whatever comes my way. That’s the life of a freelancer!” As long as he had his muscles and Roc at his side he’d be able to take on any challenge. Together they could make their way through the world. 

Vandham took a hefty swig off his beer and let his shoulders and body relax. A part of him screamed that he should be looking for another freelancing job, but it had been nice to just kick back the last three and a half weeks. Sure he and Roc were running out of money and the bits he earned through gambling, arm wrestling, and drinking contests couldn’t hold up at this pace, but…

He paused and scratched at his cheek. It had felt like his mind was building up to some counterpoint there for a minute, but it hadn’t come. Oh well. A problem for Future Vandham. Let that arsehole deal with it. Present Vandham was in the business of getting properly sloshed about now. Past Vandham had been very insistent about it.

The night wore on, with good drink and good food, loud boisterous singing, and only occasionally obnoxious company. Eventually it was time for the bar to close down and Roc to help a drunken Vandham stumble back to their inn. 

“You haven’t paid for tonight yet. First the gold, then I give you your keys back. Did you want to pay for another week in advance?” The clerk, a slender Urayan woman with light blue hair, leaned against the counter with her elbows, looking supremely bored. She was a little too skinny to be his type, but he had tried flirting with her at the beginning. Hadn’t stuck. 

Vandham gave her his answer, but she just let out an irritated sigh. What was with that? He was being perfectly articulate. Fine, he’d have to repeat himself. “I grva hfla brk…”, what was so hard to understand about that?

Roc, who had been holding Vandham by the arm to keep him upright, reached out with a taloned hand and dug the gold out of one of the pouches on Vandham’s belt. The Blade counted at gold and then swept it back into the pouch. “Sorry Yanny, we’ll be out of your hair. Could you bring down our belongings?”

Vandham found it hard to understand what Roc was saying. Their belongings? Out of her hair? What was his Blade talking about? “Wassat?” That about summed it up.

“There’s not enough for another night. There’s barely enough to buy a meal in the morning. We’ll have to rough it tonight and then go hunting tomorrow. And then we need another job.” Roc helped Vandham sit down on a bench in the lobby and waited on their possessions to be brought down. There wasn’t a lot. A few bags of changes of clothes, cleaning supplies, a little jerky. That sort of thing. Vandham hadn’t kept any of the things from his life before becoming a freelance mercenary.

The world seemed to blur and spin around him, and sooner than he could have imagined he found himself being propped against one of the inner walls of the Urayan Titan’s flesh. Vandham didn’t even remember Roc leading them out of Fonsa Myma. Had they walked? Had Roc flown them? Roc kept saying that if Vandham got any bulkier they wouldn’t be able to carry Vandham. 

“Sleep well Vandham. Tomorrow might be difficult.”

\-------------------------

Hunting proved good enough to provide food for the both of them. One of the advantages of being a Driver. The average wild beast or monster wasn’t too much of an issue for them. Roc’s ability to fly was also exceptionally handy for scouting and hunting. Still, none of that changed the fact that Vandham was getting sick of sleeping outside.

Oh it wasn’t so much that he minded it under normal circumstances, but this was the muggiest season in Uraya. Something about how the Titan processed ether at certain times of year, Vandham couldn’t remember why, but the point was that it got uncomfortably humid. Near a month sleeping on a real bed had made him soft. Or maybe he had never been as comfortable sleeping outside as he pretended. 

Neither he nor Roc had any skill at cooking. They could cook something over a fire sure enough, but beyond that they were essentially hopeless. Vandham found himself craving properly cooked seafood, a fresh mug of beer, and those little wavy textured chips some of the restaurants in Fonsa Myma served. Those just made you want more beer.

“Just a string of bad luck Roc, that’s all it is. It’ll be over before we know it.” They hadn’t been able to pick up any good freelancer jobs in the days following getting kicked out of the inn. Most of the good jobs were being either sent directly to the mercenary groups, reassigned by the Urayan government, or were calling for Blades or Drivers with specific types of skill sets. Skills neither he nor Roc had. 

“There’s always _that_ option.” Roc pointed a talon up away from the notice board and towards the middle section of Fonsa Myma. Vandham could trace the general direction Roc was aiming at to get the point. 

“We ain’t joining a mercenary group. Freelancers have way more freedom. It’s in the name, ain’t it?” Joining up with a mercenary group would be like sacrificing his way of life. As an official member of a mercenary group your jobs were assigned to you, your living quarters were assigned to you, and who you spent time with was all set. Might as well join the army at that point. 

No, that wasn’t for Vandham. You fought for your freedom and you lived as you pleased. As long as you weren’t going out of your way to hurt anyone, that was all that mattered. That’s what he had been taught years ago. 

“You could at least see if any of the mercenary teams are looking to pad their numbers with any freelancers. What could it hurt?” Vandham knew that Roc meant well, and that Roc was probably right, but it was still frustrating. Anyway, mercs generally posted on the notice boards if they were looking for hirelings. The Urayan monarchy typically only sent their actual soldiers out for matters of war or territory disputes. Peacekeeping and monster subjugation had historically been the work of mercenaries. 

A side effect of Uraya having a smaller population than Mor Ardain most likely. Still, Uraya controlled more small to mid-sized Titans than Mor Ardain did. If it hadn’t been for the Ardanians conquering Gormott back when Vandham was just a little kid the balance of power would have remained in Uraya’s favor. 

Vandham pushed away those thoughts. He didn’t like thinking about politics. That stuff wasn’t for him. He wasn’t about to fight someone else’s war. 

As Vandham was contemplating their options and whether he should head up to the merc barracks, a scrawny fellow, maybe sixteen, idled up and posted something on the notice board. Then he wandered off. Vandham shuffled closer and inspected it carefully. 

Grinning he looked up at Roc, one of the few people he had known who was taller than him, and tapped a thumb against the paper. “Looks like our luck just improved Roc. Waddya say? Shall we check out Garfont?”

\--------------------

Garfont Village was a town of middling size, made unusual mostly by its primary inhabitants. The village was home to the large band of mercenaries who took their name from the village. Or the village took its name from the mercenaries? Didn’t matter. Either way, it was a merc town! 

Vandham had only been to Garfont a few times to pick up work, but the place was always lively. Lots of mercenaries, hangers on, merchants, and more. There was fun, food, and dance to be had at the village at any given moment. There was a sparring area where the mercs trained. Actually trained! Like they were soldiers or something. 

Despite having been there before he still found himself surprised at how _normal_ Garfont was. Mercenaries were the source of the town’s income, but only a portion of the town’s inhabitants were actually mercs. Everyone else had some other job to do. Plus lots of the mercs had families.

Vandham and Roc made their way to a table set up under a tent where the guys who properly ran the Garfont Mercenaries could usually be found when a job was available. A pair of stocky Urayans in their mid-fifties, Migi and Hidari were technically the assistants to the mercenary leader of Garfont, but they ran most of the day to day activities. These were the fellows he had gotten work from in the past. He had met their boss once in passing, but not much more than that.

“Hoi mates, I heard ya were looking for some freelance Drivers. That right?” The two men looked up from their paperwork as Vandham and Roc approached. Vandham wasn’t certain which of the two was Migi and which was Hidari. Nobody had ever actually told him.

The one on the left, Migi he thought, tapped a pen against his papers and eyed Vandham up and down. “That’s right. We don’t have quite as many Drivers as the boss thinks we need for this particular job. It’s an assignment from the monarchy so it has high priority. And not enough time for us to wait on more team members coming back from other jobs.”

Hidari, probably, scratched at a red spot on his neck. “You’ve done work for us before. I’d remember that Blade anywhere. Read these contract documents and if it sounds fine to you, sign it and bring it back.”

Vandham accepted the handful of papers the man handed him. “Really? Just like that? Easier than I thought.”

Hidari scratched even more ferociously at the red mark. “Like we said, we’re short handed and time is critical. We’re trying to fill four Driver slots on short notice. Drivers who have done work for Garfont in the past get priority since it shows you can deliver.”

Roc leaned over Vandham’s shoulder to inspect the paperwork. “How many people will be on this mission?”

Migi pretended to consult his paperwork before answering. Vandham recognized that kind of pretend nonsense. Lots of mercs liked to pretend they weren’t particularly bright. To be fair, lots of mercs weren’t particularly bright. “Twenty Drivers counting the four freelancers, twelve support members, and one civilian consultant.”

Now that was new to Vandham. “What kinda job needs a civilian consultant?”

“This kind,” the two men said in unison.

“Right. Guess I walked into that one. Suppose I’ll fill this stuff out and get it back to you right quick.” He accepted a pen they offered and moved to a small table off to the side. 

Thirty-three Humans and at least twenty Blades. A high priority job with a civilian consultant in tow. Salvagers were considered civilian consultants, but Vandham had never heard any job describe them that way. You always just called ‘em salvagers. So what sorta job was this?

Well either way, the pay was good and he and Roc needed the cash. Together they could tackle any job. Besides, the opportunity to work side by side with nineteen other Drivers? How often did you get that sorta chance? Sixteen Drivers was probably around half of what the Garfont Mercenaries had at full strength so there was a decent chance he’d see some of their best in action. Maybe even their boss.

Things were looking up.

\-------------------------

Vandham and Roc spent the next day and a half hanging around Garfont Village. It was especially nice since, as he was technically on the job, he got meal chits and a place to sleep. Nothing fancy and it was really simple food, but it was more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. Once this job was over they could enjoy even better food. The only downside to the whole thing was that the meal chits didn’t include anything other than water.

Finally Migi and Hidari sent the announcement through the village that all team members for the upcoming off-Titan job were to assemble at the sparring grounds. So he and Roc sauntered on over. It didn’t take long for everyone to gather together, standing around and waiting on the man who would be leading the expedition. The boss of the Garfont Mercenaries, Shadrach. 

Vandham looked around at the crew of mercs who had been brought together. It was pretty easy to tell the Garfont Mercs apart from the freelancers. Each of the freelancers, including himself, was a little off to the side. The official Garfont mercs weren’t keeping anyone out, but there was just a camaraderie and closeness to them that only built up after doing tons of jobs together. Risking your life with each other.

Among the gathered Drivers Vandham saw primarily Common Blades, which wasn’t too surprising. Even in the military there were more Common types than Unique ones. Besides Roc he saw five others, although he had heard Shadrach’s Blade was a Unique type. Vandham didn’t recognize the other three freelancers.

That wasn’t surprising. There were fewer and fewer freelancers in Uraya these days. Most freelancers traveled from Titan to Titan. Uraya liked to scoop up promising freelancers into their mercenary groups. 

The low rumbling of conversations cut off as the man of the hour strolled into the sparring grounds. Shadrach was a tall Urayan with grey hair, but there were strands of light blue still remaining. He was the slim sort with wiry muscle, but his most defining features were the chunk missing out of his nose, the thick scar on the right side of his face, and his one eyebrow above his left eye. Supposedly the same injury that had taken part of his nose had left the scar and kept hair from growing back out of his right eyebrow. 

It was strange to think how intimidating the air this man emanated was, despite how patently ridiculous a face he had. That missing eyebrow did him no favors, but he had a glower and a presence that made people back down. 

He managed to be intimidating even when you factored in his Blade who skipped along behind him. That Blade was dressed in a floral styled green and pink outfit, was maybe half Shadrach’s size, had light green hair, and big pink eyes. Vandham hadn’t seen the tiny little female Blade that accompanied Shadrach before, but he had heard people mention the skills both Driver and Blade wielded. Hard to be intimidating with a little girl trailing in your wake though.

Walking with them was a Human, possibly Ardanian, with light brown hair and plain colored clothes. A little on the older side, although Vandham had a hard time guessing if the fellow was forty or closer to sixty. Despite the scar along the edge of the man’s left eye, Vandham was fairly certain this was the civilian consultant. There were no signs of him carrying a weapon or any supplies after all.

Shadrach stopped in front of the assembled mercenaries, his Blade to his left and the consultant to the right. “Alright people, let’s go over the basics!”

Vandham was impressed at how quickly everyone’s attention focused on Shadrach. The man really did have a presence to him. 

“We depart for Fonsa Myma at first light tomorrow. On arrival we will board a commissioned vessel that will take us nearly to the Titan Inedia. The Titan has been taken control of by a group of bandits and the citizens put their lives on the line to send a request for aid to the Urayan government. That’s where we come in.”

Bandits that had taken over a Titan? Now that was pretty exciting. Vandham had never heard of Inedia before. Must not be that large or important. Made sense. If it was important then Uraya would have sent the military and not them.

“Our mission will be to capture or kill all members of this bandit group. This isn’t a search and destroy job though. We need to minimize casualties to the civilians of Inedia and keep collateral damage to an absolute minimum. We’ll be swimming in from a distance under cover of darkness, setting up a camp, and making scout sweeps before we take any action. I expect this mission to be highly dangerous, but well within our capacity. I want everyone to get a good night’s rest and then be up and ready before first light. Dismissed!”

Without another word Shadrach turned heel and walked away, the consultant and his Blade following along. The assembled Drivers, Blades, and support team members milled around for a few moments. Vandham wasn’t really a fan of the man acting like a military commander, but it was probably the easiest way to handle a large team like this one.

Roc nudged him from behind. “Vandham, let’s get some grub and turn in early. I usually wake up with the Sun, but you…”

“Hey now, I wake up easy enough. Still, you’re right. There’ll be plenty of time to mingle with this lot during the job.” And a few of the mercs present were ones he’d like to take a crack at. Especially the young up-and-comers among the Garfont team. The old timers were tough, but he wanted to know how strong those closer to his own age were.

After all, they’d be the most likely to be rivals going into the future.

\-----------------------

At first light the mercenary crew departed Garfont Village, their supplies properly loaded up on broad and narrow shoulders alike. Shadrach set a steady pace for them, but not an overwhelming one. He was trying to be fast, but not exhaust anyone. His short little Blade flitted in and out of the group, practically sliding across the ground like she was skating, and checked on how everyone was doing. Vandham was pretty sure the Blade was the healing sort from what he had heard.

“So, you must be Vandham. I recognized you by the description of your Blade.” Vandham looked over his shoulder to see a large dark skinned Urayan man, hair a shade of green that was near to black, coming up from behind. Maybe a year or two younger or older than Vandham himself actually. Based on the short Blade with the blue hair and spiked eyepatch he was sure he knew who this fellow was. One of the up-and-comers at Garfont.

“Yeah, I’m Vandham. And you?” No need to give the fellow the satisfaction of knowing he was recognized. Maybe that’d rile him up a bit. 

Instead of the Driver, it was the Blade, hands on her wide hips, who answered. Her tone was cold and no-nonsense. “Childish. Your eyes showed recognition when they saw me. You know my Driver the same way he knew you.”

Vandham threw back his head and belted out a laugh. “Guess you got me there! Shrewd one, aren’t you? Yeah, I know you two. One of the golden boys of Garfont, Waldemar and the icy Blade, Theory. Right?”

Waldemar grinned broadly and clapped a huge hand onto his Blade’s shoulder. She stumbled forward one step, glared at him, and then kicked him in the shin. He grabbed his leg and hopped up and down. “Oi! No need for that shit, okay?”

He rubbed at his shin and finally lowered his leg. Theory rolled her eyes, gave him the finger, and sauntered on ahead. “Well big guy, now we’ve met. And you got the delight of seeing the kind of Blade I’m working with. Don’t worry, she secretly fancies me.”

Ahead of them Theory raised her other hand and flipped him the bird with that one too. Vandham scratched his head and watched her wander away. “Yeah...sure seems like it.”

Waldemar crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked Vandham up and down as they walked. “Pretty rare I meet someone around my age that’s near as big as I am. Come to see it, you might even be a little bigger.”

Roc reached out and ruffled Vandham’s pompadour. “From my perspective he’s nearly as tiny as he was the day he resonated with me.”

Vandham brushed Roc’s hand out of his hair, Waldemar laughing at them as he did so. “Come off it, I’ve not been tiny since I hit my teens.”

The other Driver let his laughter subside and turned a keen eye towards Roc. “A Blade that can fly. That’s pretty incredible. Rare skill right there. You’re Roc, yeah?”

“Always have been, always will be.” Roc preened under the man’s admiring gaze. Vandham’s Blade did like to show off. Just a little bit.

“Guess I should consider your little duo some of my rivals. Maybe once this is over we can have scrap to see which of our combinations is on top. Course we might need to invite the other new names to the mix. Really see who the next merc king will be.” Waldemar said it with excitement, but not malice. Vandham could appreciate that. He had been thinking much the same thing himself.

“I’d give you a go. I’ve heard about some up-and-comers around my age. Hadn’t met any of the others till just now.” There were several younger Drivers that were getting name dropped these days, and three of them were members of the Garfont mercenaries. 

“I’ll introduce you to the rest later, but there’s five of us in this batch who I think are worth the time. Me, you, Gabadon, William, and Anjelo.” Vandham recognized two of those names, but not the last one. The other two were also Garfont mercs like Waldemar.

Waldemar grinned broadly and threw an arm around Vandham’s shoulders. It was an odd experience. It was rare he encountered someone as big as he was after all. “Once we figure out which of us is the toughest we’ll get real knackered! After all: first have a punch out, then drink to forget! Once you’ve forgotten, the friendship’s all set!”

“Huh?”

“You don’t recognize it?” The dark haired man looked shocked at Vandham’s reaction. “It’s part of the salvager’s code. They’ve got some good ones on there. Well, two that are pretty good anyway.”

“You a salvager or something?” Living in Uraya you didn’t spend much time around salvagers. Mostly they just passed through or picked up equipment. It wasn’t like you could salvage while inside the Urayan Titan.

“Nah, but my Da was a salvager back in the day. Those guys can drink as hard as any merc out there, I’ll tell you that!”

Well. This trip might be more fun than Vandham had been expecting.

\---------------------

With so many people on hand the loading process went quickly onto the ship they had chartered. It was a clunky Titan ship with a low profile, most of its space built into the Titan’s body. It was surprisingly concave. Vandham had seen this type before. Supposedly this type of Titan had a decentralized nervous system so you could carve out portions of its body without harming it. 

Shadrach had apparently arranged for their use of the ship without any additional staff. That meant that some of the mercenaries themselves would be handling it. In fact, it turned out that two of the support members were there to pilot the ship as well as remain behind on it while everyone else made landfall at Inedia. 

Their quarters were cramped with everyone having to make do with hammocks set in tiers and rows. Just a bunch of mercenaries and Blades packed into a large open room. Their supplies had been placed into a separate storage area. The notable exception was Shadrach, who kept the Captain’s and guest quarters for himself and his Blade. 

Honestly Vandham had been half expecting for Shadrach’s Blade to share a room with her Driver what with the way the little Blade clung to everyone around her. Odder than that, he had been expecting the consultant to take the guest quarters rather than bunk with the rest of them. 

Surprisingly Vandham spotted the consultant dicing in a corner with some of the men, regaling them with some dramatic story. He really seemed to have everyone’s enraptured attention. Might turn out to be someone worth having a chat with.

Now that they had departed Uraya, Roc had taken the opportunity to soar out above the ship, making large loops and just enjoying the fresh air. Roc insisted that there was a difference to the ‘texture’ of the air outside of the Urayan Titan’s body. Guess that was just one of the things you could expect from a wind Blade.

Deciding that he needed a little fresh air as well, Vandham angled himself towards the stairs to the upper deck and outside. However, he nearly bumped into one of the other mercs on the way there. He stepped to the side to avoid colliding with the man, who nodded cheerfully. “Thanks buddy!,” the man said.

“Yeah, no problem.” Vandham was just about to tell the other man to go first, when he really took in the other man’s appearance. Tight fitting red and black armor, wavy blonde hair, energetic blue eyes, and a blue three-pointed fan-like shape on the upper portion of his chest. A Core Crystal. “Hang on, you’re a Blade?”

The man, Blade, whatever, quirked an eyebrow at him. Clearly amused he said, “Well yeah. You didn’t think all the Human looking Blades have spikes or whatever sticking out of them, did you?”

Oddly the Blade had a similar timbre to his voice as Roc. If Vandham closed his eyes it wouldn’t be too hard to mistake one for the other. “Sorry, never met a Blade that looked as Human as you. Didn’t realize the Garfont folks had a Blade like you around either.”

The Blade reached up and flicked a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. “You wouldn’t have. I came with Anjelo. He’s one of the freelancers. Just like you.”

Well that made sense. Vandham still hadn’t actually properly met this Anjelo fellow, but meeting his Blade was a good start. “Hey, put in a good word with your Driver for me, would you? When this is over Waldemar and I were talking about having a big brawl for the young up-and-comers of this new generation of mercs. Waddya say?”

The blonde Blade sighed and shook his head. “A free for all battle with a bunch of sweaty guys? Yeah, no thanks. I see way too many brooding faces back home as it is. Now if we invite some ladies to watch I’ll consider it.”

That got a wry chuckle out of Vandham. “Alright then, consider it done. Your man Vandham here is a shoe-in with the ladies!”

“Well Vandham, keep that promise and maybe I’ll talk to Anjelo about it. Till then, tata.” The Blade bowed dramatically and started up the steps.

Then Vandham realized something a little embarrassing. “Hang on now, I just noticed. What’s your name? I didn’t catch it.”

Those blue eyes looked back to Vandham and for a second he was certain they went past him to something on the far side of the room. “Call me Mik.”

\----------------------

As planned, their ship arrived in the dead of night and came to a stop a fair distance from Inedia. Everyone was supplied simple breathing apparatuses and air tanks so they could make the swim beneath the cover of the Cloud Sea. Waterproof bags and containers kept their supplies good to go. They kept a relaxed pace so as to avoid any chance of being spotted and steadily made their way to land.

Inedia was a Titan of middling size with a squat bulbous fish-like face and a rounded back with a series of ridges going down each side. A healthy growth of vegetation blossomed on its shell and the villages were built into different sections of those spinal ridges. They were scattered and at different levels, using the rest of each ridge for farming and raising animals. 

The slope of the Titan’s body meant that the rear end was too steep to support a proper town, so that was where the mercenary team made landfall. Large portions of the Titan’s body were underwater and apparently there was a cavern system that ran through certain sections of its shell, but the citizens didn’t make use of them. After all, they were primarily occupied by wild beasts and monsters.

Once ashore the team made quick work of a batch of Arachno who had been making one of the caves their home and set about turning it into their base of operations. It didn’t take long to get themselves situated and in position. The Arachno corpses got dumped into the Cloud Sea, which some of the men complained about. Arachno silk and venom glands were worth a pretty nice chunk of change, but this wasn’t the type of job where they could bother with harvesting from them. Of course leaving the corpses could have attracted attention as well.

Shadrach quickly reminded everyone of their sub-teams and shifts. Scouts would need to be dispatched to the seven villages on Inedia and guards would need to be kept rotating in and out of the cavern. Their support staff also reassembled the radio equipment that had been broken down for safe transport. That way when the time came or if there was an emergency they could signal the boat to pick them up. 

All in all Vandham was impressed with how efficiently everything operated. Even with the four freelancers and their Blades it all went off without a hitch. Shadrach and the senior members of the Garfont mercenaries kept everyone on task and not a soul among them complained. Shadrach had thoroughly drilled into their heads what their tasks were over the course of their journey, but it was still almost strange to see how well everyone worked together.

It wasn’t like Vandham hadn’t been on any freelancer jobs with established merc groups before. Nothing quite this large in scale, but even so it was a thing of beauty to behold. The normally rowdy mercs were a well-oiled machine. Even that civilian consultant had a hand in getting their operation set up.

Vandham still hadn’t managed to figure out quite what the purpose of the civilian consultant was. Normally he would have assumed the man was representing the Urayan government’s interests in the job, but people who did that role were called oversight something-or-others. The man did seem to have an understanding of the layout of the Titan, so perhaps he was the source of some of their advance information. Vandham wasn’t convinced. There was more to it than that. And the man was too efficient to just be some bored rich old guy looking for a thrill.

With the scouts out to survey the island, and it not being Vandham’s turn on guard duty yet, he ate his evening rations with Roc and then settled into a spot by the cavern wall to rest. He would have liked to be outside and moving, but stealth wasn’t his strong suit. And unfortunately, whether in daylight or night Roc made a terrible choice for a scout despite his ability to fly. His body shape stood out too well in the sky. No one would mistake Roc for a Rogul or anything of the sort.

In the early hours of the next morning the scouts returned to make their report. A report that baffled Vandham as much as it did all of the others. Even Shadrach seemed perturbed by what the scouts had to say. 

Outside of a few farm settlements, the population of Inedia was gathered into seven moderately sized towns, each set on a different spinal ridge, just like they had seen on arrival. Four on the Titan’s left side and three on its right. One of the ridges on the right side had decayed to such an extent that it was impossible to build secure structures on it.

By the scouts estimates each of the villages had smaller populations, ranging from approximately two to seven hundred each. Counting farmers and outliers, the scouts' assumptions put the total count of people living on Inedia at between two to three thousand. Primarily Indoline, although some Gormotti and Nopon had been spotted. Roughly two-thirds of the population were adults, largely due to the long lives of the Indoline.

That fact alone threw the gathered mercenaries into confusion. Mostly Indoline? They called the question out to their leader. Shadrach nodded solemnly, his chin supported in one hand as he sat listening to the scout report. “Cole confirmed prior to our departure that Inedia is technically under the banner of Indol, although they rarely even receive tax collectors.”

The civilian consultant lounged nearby, watching the proceedings. Shadrach’s statement was enough to confirm for Vandham that the consultant, this Cole fellow, was an informant of some kind. But what use was he if they still had to send scouts to get population numbers?

Shadrach insisted the scouts continue their report before they engaged in any further discussion. So continue they did. And matters grew only stranger from there.

Based on signs and individual counts the scouts had verified between forty to fifty bandits scattered between the different villages of Inedia. On the assumption that some stood out less or were hidden elsewhere the scouts estimated at most one hundred bandits. Total. Not a signal sign of any Blades whatsoever.

One of the Common Blades shouted out what they were all thinking. “How the hell did a hundred men take over a Titan with thousands of people living on it?”

A Gormotti Driver added his voice. “If Indol controls this place then why did Uraya get the request? What the hell are we even doing here?”

“A bunch of cowards who surrendered at the first sign of violence!”

“I bet they just don’t want Indol paying more attention to them. If soldiers get sent, then they’ll end up paying more taxes!”

“They’re trying to start some kind of incident between Uraya and Indol!”

“Isn’t it just that Uraya is closer to this place than Indol?”

“Cowards!” “Cheapskates!” “Terrorists!” “In league with the bandits!” “It’s the Ardanians!” 

“ENOUGH!”, shouted Shadrach. His voice spilling out across the cavern quieted the anxious and irritable mercenaries. Vandham almost laughed at how easily they were quelled. The boss of Garfont was sure something. 

Shadrach stood, hooked his hands behind his back and started pacing. His short Blade mimicked him much to Vandham’s amusement. “We can wonder about the details all we want, but ultimately this job is still ours to complete. We either learn more once the job is over or we don’t, but in the end we agreed to a contract. That means we finish the damned job! Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Came the bellowed out response from the Garfont folks. Vandham noticed he wasn’t the only one of the freelancers who seemed entertained by the situation. That Blade Mik seemed close to breaking down in laughter, although the grim-faced fellow sitting in front of him, presumably his Driver Anjelo, didn’t seem remotely amused. 

“Using our scouts information we’ll determine the approximate numbers of the bandits in different locations. Then, using those numbers, we’ll formulate a group of surgical strike teams. The goal will be to have those teams move in swiftly and eliminate as many enemies as possible. This isn’t a full fledged battle. Don’t go picking honorable fights. Get in, kill or incapacitate fast, and get out.” Shadrach turned and glared at the assembled mercenaries.

“No grandstanding! No big Arts! Nothing flashy or splashy or whatever nonsense bullshit you kids these days think is cool! If any of these villages becomes a battleground we risk seeing civilian casualties, collateral damage, or even the bandits taking hostages. They outnumber us, but twenty Drivers and Blades are more than enough to take down a hundred bandits! Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Now this. This was something Vandham could get behind. A real challenge _and_ they’d have the opportunity to save thousands of lives? Absolutely.

\---------------------

The flat planes of the spinal ridges meant it was next to impossible to make a stealthy approach in the middle of the day. As a result they spent most of the day preparing or relaxing before setting out at night. The smaller numbers of bandits meant they were unlikely to encounter roving scout patrols. 

They had split into teams sized appropriately for the number of bandits spotted in their respective villages. Vandham was assigned to a team going after somewhere between eight to fifteen bandits. Not too large a number. As such it was just Vandham, Roc, two of the Garfont mercs, and their Common Blades. Three pairs of Drivers and Blades should be more than enough for that many normal people.

As they crept through the fields towards their designated village Vandham felt a strange chill run over his body. Almost like a pulse that reverberated through his affinity link with Roc. The avian Blade put a taloned hand on Vandham’s shoulder and whispered to him. “Something felt odd just now.”

“Yeah, I felt it too,” he whispered back. He scuttled over close enough to whisper to the others. “You lot feel something strange a second ago?”

They hadn’t, but Vandham was certain it wasn’t just his imagination. But why would he and Roc have noticed something these more experienced Drivers wouldn’t have? Outside of being pretty good at dissipating ether miasma and flying, Roc didn’t have any special skills. 

“We can’t abort now,” said one of the men. “Just keep an eye out just in case you weren’t just feeling nervous.”

They continued their approach, but without warning lights flared on from electric lamps strung out around the village. A dozen men, a mix of Gormotti, Indoline, and Ardanians, poured out of the village. Straight at Vandham and the team of mercenaries with him.

Vandham unhooked the hand scythes from behind him and readied them, Roc’s ether pouring into him in a greater flow. If the enemies came to them then that was perfect. “Right! Let’s do it!”

He stood to his full height and charged out to meet them, Roc soaring above and behind him supplying ether. There was no time to closely watch his teammates. Four mercenaries split off and came right for him, two with spears, one with a heavy axe, and the last one with a two handed sword. 

He hooked one of the scythes around the edge of a sword thrust and pushed it aside, then knocked aside a spearhead aimed at his thigh. These bandits were faster than he had expected. The axe came down towards his head and he blocked it, but the power of the blow sent a shock down his arms. Enough so that he would have been skewered by an attack from the last bandit if Roc didn’t send a burst of wind at them with a single wingbeat.

Vandham stumbled backwards and then steadied himself, but the bandits didn’t let up. They were moving with an impressive level of synchronization, a spearman to each side joined up with the axe wielder to the left and the swordsman to the right. Vandham launched a flurry of wind blades at them, but they dodged handily, moving at a speed that should have been impossible for a normal human.

“Roc they’re…”, a barrier formed around him, stopping the axe in the knick of time from colliding with his shoulder. Roc’s honeycomb ether shield cracked under the impact. That level of force shouldn’t have been possible from a Human.

“I agree. This feels like fighting four Drivers at once!” Roc joined the fray, swiping about with his taloned feet and hands. A quick glance to the side showed Vandham that his teammates were similarly struggling. 

A viper quick spear thrust penetrated Vandham’s defenses and left a nasty gash across his right arm. Snarling he blasted a wave of ether at the bandit, knocking the man backwards. “We need to retreat! We’re getting overwhelmed!”

“Got it!,” declared Roc. The Blade flew up above their heads and flapped his wings rapidly, kicking up dust and clouding everyone’s vision. Vandham began to beat a retreat, hoping that the others would follow suit. It was possible they might have been able to win, but not without risking unnecessary damage to the village.

Vandham had tangled with a few Drivers here and there, but never multiple at the same time. Yet that was absolutely what it had felt like. That was tough enough, but those men had moved with such precision it was like they were operating on the same wavelength. 

They made it out of the dust cloud and Vandham saw that his teammates were there, injured, but alive. Roc was flying just slightly overhead. Yet the bandits didn’t seem to be following them. 

Still, they didn’t stop until they were able to retreat down from the ridge and move into a section of forest on the ridge below. Finally with a moment to catch their breath they set to bandaging up their respective injuries. They’d have to move carefully on their way back to base to avoid discovery. What would Shadrach think? What had happened with the other attacks?

One of the other mercs, a lanky Urayan man named Jeffords, scowled and looked back in the direction of the village. “What the hell was that? Those bastards moved like Drivers! But I didn’t see a damned Blade anywhere!”

Vandham nodded slowly. “Me neither. They were too strong and fast to be normal enemies. And it was like they were in perfect sync!”

The other merc’s Blade, a short Common Blade with cat-like ears named Elisa, kicked a tree, making it shake. “Not perfect sync. They fought like Drivers and Blades in absolute resonance. The level of trust you only hear about Drivers and Blades achieving.”

Her Driver, Liga, seemed deeply perturbed. And not just by the bandage that wrapped around his midsection. “But Jeffords is right. There were no Blades around. And the scouts didn’t spot any. The Blades couldn’t have been in the village. Affinity links can’t stretch that far, can they?”

Jeffords’ Blade, Bastel, glanced over at Roc and Vandham. “Hang on, you two felt something just before we got there, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” said Roc, “but I’m not sure what it was. My ether senses are fairly poor though, so I’m not sure why Vandham and I would have felt it when no one else did. There’s nothing that sets us…”

Everyone watched Roc carefully as the Blade paused in consideration. “No, I’m wrong. There is something that sets us apart. My element. Of the three Blades present I’m the only wind element. We must have passed through a wall or barrier of wind ether.”

Roc kept going, now beginning to pace in thought. “I didn’t have much opportunity to contemplate it in the middle of battle, but I felt something similar during the fight. But with my limited ability to sense ether if I could feel wind ether being channeled around us then the sheer amount would have to be absurd.”

Vandham turned to look out in the direction of the village. It was the second time in his life he had felt like the loser of a battle. At least no one had died this time. “So what are we talking about? Blades that can create affinity links from huge distances? Or something else?”

No one seemed to have the answers. Yet one thought pervaded all of their minds. If every single bandit on the island could fight with the strength of a Driver...then that meant they weren’t twenty Drivers and Blades up against as many as a hundred normal men. They might be truly outmatched. 

\--------------------

As he watched his ‘teammates’ retreating from battle, defeated by a bunch of supposedly normal Humans, Mikhail couldn’t help but get excited. If the ‘enemy’ had this impressive of an ability then perhaps this trip wouldn’t prove fruitless after all. 

After all those years of searching he might have finally found a one in a million Blade like Jin. Perhaps he should go ahead and discard his ‘Driver’. No, better to wait until he was able to determine the ‘enemy’s’ goals and personality. 

Maybe Torna would finally gain its fourth member.


	2. Freelancer and Strategy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! I return. I actually didn't realize a full month had passed since I posted the last chapter. Stupid time. I actually finished this chapter about a week ago, but I wanted to wait until some of the fervor from Femslash February died down. Plus I was participating. Anyway, here it is.

Bit by bit the mercenaries assembled back at their cavern hideout. Furtive discussions broke out the more of them who returned and it was clear that they shared one thing in common. Every single team had been routed and sent fleeing in defeat. All of them by seemingly regular Humans who fought with bizarre synchronicity and Driver-esque strength. The bandits that had taken over Inedia were far from normal.

Shadrach had them take a headcount for each squad, trying to determine their losses. He also had his Blade, Floren, lead a team of healing Blades to treat any injuries the mercenaries had acquired. There were numerous injuries, but few of them severe. However, forlorn faces made it clear that their pride had taken the most significant damage.

Vandham hunkered down in a corner after accepting a bit of healing and watched everyone else. Some of the faces he saw were depressed, others embarrassed, and a fair number biting back fury. Not too surprising. They had been completely trounced after all. 

As Shadrach was making his rounds debriefing the different teams a fight nearly broke out. A fierce whispered argument across the cavern between a lanky Urayan and a stout Ardainian devolved into shoving and then raised fists. Shadrach barely even managed to lift his head towards the commotion before it was halted in place. Floren stepped into the middle between the two mercs, forestalling them. Then their respective Blades dragged them away. 

Vandham watched the Urayan Driver carefully. He didn’t recognize that face, but he knew the description of the Unique Blade that had pulled the Driver away. A fire Blade whose lower half of his face and much of his body appeared to be made from partially cooled magma. Byron, a Greataxe wielding fire Blade. Which meant the Urayan was his Driver, Beast-Hunter William. One of Garfont’s up and coming youngsters. Looked a handful of years older than Vandham himself.

He had never really cared for the Greataxe as a weapon. It had always looked slow and unwieldy. The few times he had borrowed one from another Driver to give it some practice swings it had felt awkward and sluggish. Roc’s weapons, though strange, were much preferable. “Waddya think, Roc?”

Roc stood with their back to the stone wall, overlooking the milieu of frustrated mercs. “I’m concerned that Shadrach hasn’t said anything to try and calm people down yet.”

Vandham nodded at that. He hadn’t considered it, but that did feel out of character from what he had seen of the renowned mercenary leader so far. “You make a good point. Gah, I don’t like this watching and waiting stuff. I’m not the type to sit back and observe.”

“Thankfully that’s why you’ve got me,” said Roc. Vandham chuckled at that. It was true enough.

“Glad to have ya mate. So, notice anything else?” Roc had keen eyes, but only seemed to pay careful attention when it was necessary. You could never rely on Roc to have noticed where the best food stands were for instance. Which seemed odd to Vandham. Roc especially loved those spicy fried Squood balls. 

Roc nodded and pointed a talon toward a particular spot. Where Shadarach was talking to a morose looking man and his very distinct Blade. The Human-looking Blade Mik. Which meant the man with the bags under his eyes was Anjelo, the freelancer. “Vandham, have you made note of the faces here?”

“Uh…more or less.” He rubbed at an invisible spot on his cheek, like rubbing dirt out. Course he hadn’t. He had only tried to keep an eye on certain Drivers and Blades after all.

“Well everyone is here. Except the other members of the team Anjelo and his Blade were on. And look closely.” Vandham leaned in a little. “The bandages wrapped around his stomach? Stained red. Floren healed him already, but he took the most significant injuries of any Driver.”

Vandham swore under his breath. “You’re saying that whole squad except him got wiped out?”

“It seems likely. I think that’s why Shadrach hasn’t said anything yet.” Roc turned to gaze in a different direction. Where the civilian consultant Cole was sitting cross-legged, quietly contemplating the mercenaries. “That consultant doesn’t look panicked at all. Seems like he’s used to seeing people post combat.”

Now that part didn’t surprise him. Vandham had already been starting to think the guy was either former military or a retired merc. He seemed too at ease with the goings on of a merc encampment to be anything else. “Not one bit of this seems right. I don’t like it.”

Roc started to reply, but Shadrach chose that moment to step up onto a rock to give himself extra height. Looked like he was finally going to address the mercs. Floren settled down onto her side in front of Shadrach’s foot, looking supremely bored. Still, Vandham suspected it was her own way of showing support for her Driver.

“Alright you lot, quiet down because things aren’t getting any better anytime soon. Here’s the truth of it. We got spanked. Hard. And not in the fun way. The reports you all brought back give a pretty clear picture of what happened.” He planted his fists on his hips and swept his stoney gaze across the assembled mercs.

“All seven of the villages were defended by some sort of ether barrier that acted as an early warning system. Each of these barriers was erected using wind ether. When we approached too closely the enemy bandits exited the villages and engaged us. Nobody saw signs of even a single Blade, but it was clear the bandits were filled to the brim with ether. They also showed signs of sharing an affinity link. Between each other.” There were mutters from the mercenaries, despite the fact that they all knew this from earlier chatter. Hearing it from their boss was different somehow.

“Each team made the correct choice to retreat. The bandits showed no signs of pursuit, so primarily our squads made it out with only minor injuries. However, one squad hesitated to retreat. According to Anjelo’s report, when he and his squadmates tried to press the attack they were met with lethal opposition. They did eventually break and run, but they got separated in the panic. It’s possible the others are still alive, but we don’t know.” 

Vandham gritted his teeth. So that was why. That one minor decision not to retreat might have cost multiple men their lives. Stupid thing to do, but could he really say he might not have made the same call? Especially if any of the other mercs had looked like they were planning on staying to fight?

Shadrach continued. “I plan on having our scouts search for any stragglers, but it might be slow going. We do want to show caution in case the bandits have put out patrols looking for us.”

“Boss, what about those freaky bandits? How was any of that possible?” Vandham looked around for the speaker. He didn’t recognize the grizzled old Urayan man or his Common Blade. Probably one of the Garfont vets by his age though.

The boss scowled. “There were some odd reports before this, but now that we witnessed this I think I can be fairly sure when I say this. I believe that there are at least one or more Flesh Eaters among the bandits.”

There was an immediate response amongst the mercenaries. Some confused, some angry, and some frightened. That gave Vandham pause. What sort of thing scared a bunch of hardened mercs? He looked up at Roc. “Hey, any idea what a Flesh Eater is?”

Roc shook their head. “I’ve heard a few Blades mutter about them before, but I don’t know much. I think they’re some kind of special Blade. I assumed they were just monsters-in-the-closet based on how the Blades talked. Nothing real.”

Phantom monster Blades that scared other Blades and Drivers? “Pretty ominous sounding name, ain’t it?”

Shadrach clapped his hands together, sending an echo throughout the cavern. The mercenaries settled down slowly, giving their boss the quiet he needed. “Intel in advance of the mission made me believe there was a possibility we would encounter at least one Flesh Eater, but I didn’t want to incite any panic. I know some of you lot are superstitious when it comes to Flesh Eaters. Nevertheless, I took a precaution before taking the job.”

The mercenary leader jerked a thumb back to point at the civilian consultant seated a few meters behind him. “This is the reason I hired Cole as a civilian consultant. Cole is familiar with Flesh Eaters. He’ll help provide us with realistic information and expectations as best as possible. We’ll rely on his insight to formulate our plan of action. That being said, I’m yielding the floor to him.”

He hopped down from his stone and took a few steps back. Cole slowly rose to his feet and walked over, then stepped up onto that same rock. Floren didn’t budge. The scarred brunette cleared his throat before speaking. “Whatever you mercenaries think Flesh Eaters are or aren’t, I want you to forget all of that. What I tell you is reality. Anything else is idiotic fancy. Do you understand?”

There were a few mumbles, but little else. Cole rolled his eyes and continued. “Flesh Eaters aren’t scary Blades that hide under your bed and eat people. They’re Blades with Human cells bonded to their core and propagated throughout their bodies. They’re just as varied in appearance, personality, and ability as any other Blades. Some good, some bad, but all of them share two things in common.”

Cole held up a hand and raised a single finger. “Firstly, becoming a Flesh Eater releases a Blade from their bond to their Driver. Whether that Driver is on the other side of Alrest or dead the Flesh Eater keeps going. Their bodies filter ambient ether faster and more efficiently than normal Blades too, so they don’t have to worry about needing an affinity link to fight at full strength. So don’t expect to defeat a Flesh Eater by targeting their Driver.”

He ticked up the next finger. “Flesh Eaters are outlawed by the Praetorium. Hunted and persecuted. Whether you think that’s the right idea or not, that’s an absolute fact. Which means any Flesh Eater here is likely on the run from the Praetorium.”

Next he lowered his arm to his side. “Everything else about Flesh Eaters differs from one to another. They share the same elemental ether types as regular Blades and vary pretty drastically in power. Some Flesh Eaters are imperfect and their bodies break down, but on average they’re just normal Blades who aren’t bound to a Driver. No other oddities.”

The scarred man reached up and ran a finger across his scar, scratching idly at it. “There are very rare instances where Flesh Eaters have gained boosts in strength or unusual powers. Supposedly it’s possible to see both happen, but it must be such a rarity that it might as well not exist.”

Vandham and Roc exchanged purposeful looks. All this information was helpful, but it didn’t answer the real question of what they were supposed to do next. Vandham was a little curious though about where the name ‘Flesh Eater’ came from. Vandham wasn’t a vegetarian either, but he wouldn’t call himself a ‘flesh eater’. Carnivore maybe. Connoisseur of red meat if he was feeling fancy. He had an inkling as to what the answer must be based on how the various mercs had reacted. Even so, this Cole fella hadn’t included that in his list of things that were always true about Flesh Eaters. 

To his surprise Shadrach’s Blade Floren piped up from her spot laying down in front of Cole. “If you ask me, everything that’s happened so far points to the merc mission having been fronted by the bandits themselves.”

That got Vandham to sit up a little straighter. “What’s that? The bandits hired us to clear out the bandits? What sorta nonsense is that?”

“They’d have to be idiots!,” shouted one of the Common Blades. 

“Madness!”

“You think a buncha bandits got death wishes or something?”

Floren sighed and manifested her Bitball, and then began tossing it up and down in one hand. “Face it. They were prepared for us, the civilians seem perfectly calm, and there’s Flesh Eaters around. The job got sent to Uraya instead of Indol even though this is a Titan controlled by Indol. Put it together. Idiots.”

Cole squatted down and sighed, shaking his head back and forth. “It makes a certain amount of sense. If the bandits wanted us here for some reason of course they’d send to Uraya instead of Indol. Especially if there are Flesh Eaters amongst the bandits.”

The healing Blade picked up for him, still playing idly with her Bitball. “Whether the villagers sent the request on behalf of the bandits or the bandits sent it themselves doesn’t matter. Heck, there’s plenty of motives they might have. Fear of Indol, some sort of revenge scheme against Uraya, or even luring Drivers out to seize Core Crystals. In the end it doesn’t matter what their reasons are.”

A heavy thud echoed through the cave. Waldemar had slammed his fist against the stone wall. “If the bandits sent the job then why the hell are we still here? Shouldn’t we just leave this shithole behind and get out now? Bounce back to Uraya and report the situation to the throne. Let them prepare a military action or something.”

There were called responses, most of them in agreement. Vandham wasn’t sure how he felt about it. There was some bit of logic he was missing, but it was tough to focus his mind on it. _‘Why’d this job have to go and get complicated?’_

“Military action? By Uraya? Against an Indoline Titan? Are you by any chance an idiot?” Waldermar’s face turned red at Cole’s words. The civilian consultant didn’t look the least bit bothered by having pissed off a dangerous mercenary Driver.

The consultant stepped off the rock and began to pace back and forth. “You lot can act because a request was sent. Do you really believe that Uraya would risk war with Indol just to clear this place of bandits? And what do you think it would do to the reputation of the Garfont Mercenaries if you had to go crying home to mommy about some bandits? Or how it would shame your government if you reported the situation to Indol instead?”

Waldemar ground his teeth together and took a step forward, but was held back by a hand on his chest from his petite ice Blade. “If Indol pitched a hissy fit Uraya would just send them packing!”

There were a round of agreements from most of the Urayans in the group. Although he wasn’t vocal about it, Vandham couldn’t help but feel the same way. What would a bunch of monks do against the might of Uraya’s soldiers and mercenaries?

“Do you idiots really think the great powers would tolerate Indol controlling Core Crystal distribution if they thought they could just knock Indol around whenever they wanted?” Shadrach’s first words spoken since he switched out with Cole quieted all of the mercenaries. Vandham continued to be impressed by the man.

Shadrach strolled forward casually until he was standing next to where Floren was laying. “They might not pick fights as often as our government or the Empire does, but Indol is one of the three great military powers in Alrest. It’s been centuries since any nation engaged in war against them, but the last time it happened it was a bloodbath. Not against the Indoline either. And they haven’t been fighting back and forth territorial struggles over the last couple hundred years. The throne won’t pick a fight against them and it sure as shit won’t be pleased if we bounce a job sent to us over to Indol. Unless we find out that there’s at least a dozen Flesh Eaters here, then our path is obvious. We stay, we fight, and we finish the damned job.”

Despite his size and odd appearance he seemed to loom over the rest of them. “Is that clear?”

A reluctant chorus of ‘yes, sir’ clamored out from among the crowd of mercs. Vandham didn’t bother piping up. As a freelancer his refusal to continue the job wouldn’t hurt Garfont, but it would ruin his own reputation. Without that rep he wouldn’t be able to get the jobs he needed to make a living. So the answer was clear. Stay and do the job. Just like Shadrach said.

Shadrach looked to Cole. “So, what’s your assessment of our next course of action?”

Cole rubbed a thumb across his chin. “Not that different from what you do if attacking a bunch of Drivers. We need information. How many Flesh Eaters are on Inedia? Where are they located? What do they look like? If possible what, if any, are their abilities? Things like motives can come later. If at all.”

He made a dramatic flourish with a hand and all of a sudden he was spinning a slim throwing dagger between his fingers. “Once we know all of that then we need to act with as great a show of force as possible. No small strike teams. We need to bring to bear our full might against any opposing Flesh Eaters. That’s the safest route to victory.”

From below him and Shadrach Floren huffed and let her Bitball disappear into the ether in mid toss. “And if the civilians really are on the side of the bandits?”

Her Driver bumped one of his boots up against her feet. “If we get proof of that then the contract is invalid. At that point, yes, we ditch the job and go home. If there’s no pay, there’s no mercs. Simple as that.”

Shadrach reached a hand down and his Blade grasped it, letting him pull her to her feet. “I’ll be assigning people to scouting teams and guard duty. We want a thorough search. I’ll need to put a few scout teams together of Drivers only so we can send people into the villages. It’s likely those ether barriers only triggered because they picked up ether signatures passing through.”

He scanned the crowd and then pointed to Vandham. Or, rather than Vandham he was pointing at Roc. “You! Are those wings for show or can you actually fly?”

If Roc had a proper mouth they would have been smirking. Vandham had learned to judge Roc’s expressions even without Human-like features. “Absolutely. But I don’t exactly blend in with the birds.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to send you up there with a secure-line radio transmitter. I want you flying loops around the island. Report into base if you spot any significant bandit activity. You’ll be our eyes to keep us from getting swarmed. When you need to rest, land somewhere far away from the base so you don’t give away our position.” He turned and began to address some of the other Drivers and Blades.

Roc looked down at Vandham. “That fine by you?”

“You kidding? My buddy gettin’ to play a central part in the mission? You’ll really be raising both of our reps. Just don’t get yourself hurt, sa’ll I ask.” Vandham raised a closed hand up to Roc and his Blade accepted the fist bump. Vandham was proud to have Roc doing something so important, although admittedly that meant he was likely to get assigned boring guard duty. Ah well.

The boring part had to be done. Once that was over with they could get to the real meat of the job. Beating down a bunch of bandits and some kinda fancy Blades? Now that was something Vandham could get behind.

\---------------------------

Theory perched on a tree branch, one hand against the trunk for balance, watching the landscape stretched out before her. So far she had seen no signs of bandit movement, but it was crucial to stay alert. It would almost be a relief to see bandits come charging toward them. An opportunity to dispatch some enemies to wash away the taste of retreat would be welcome. Waldemar had been growing increasingly frustrated since they had been forced to back down.

She was confident in her own sword skills and the strength she granted to her Driver. Still, they didn’t have eyes in the back of their head. Fighting multiple opponents typically relied on either quickly overpowering them or taking advantage of how those foes would be forced to attack carefully lest they strike each other. Those bandits had acted so perfectly in sync that there had been no risk to them. When next they saw bandits she would attack with her full speed with lethal force instantly. No mercy, no hesitation.

“Theory, hey hey, Theory.” Theory turned toward the source of that excitable voice. One that always felt so perfectly familiar to her, even from the first moment they had met. A Blade clad in blue, with an eyepatch over the opposite eye to Theory’s own, and, quite oddly, an identically shaped core. Praxis.

“Yes, Praxis? What is it?” 

“Guess what I saw earlier. Go on, guess.” Even though Theory couldn’t see Praxis’ face from their respective positions she could imagine how she looked. Her cheeks twitching from holding back her amusement, her eyes sparkling with delight. Praxis’ energy was infectious. Even Praxis’ often dour Driver Gabadon had a hard time not getting drawn in by her attitude.

“There’s no way I’ll get it right. Just tell me.” They were on lookout duty. She shouldn’t indulge Praxis _too_ much. 

Praxis let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine fine, you’re no fun. Gabadon tried to hit on Floren while the boss was busy. Turns out Gabadon didn’t know Floren is actually a guy! Humans are so unobservant, don’t you think?”

“Oh. Yes. Quite.” So...Floren was male? How had she failed to notice that?

Her partner kept going. “But that didn’t even give Gabadon a moment’s pause, you know? He just kept flirting. I had no idea!”

Theory frowned slightly. “I’m not sure I understand. Why is it surprising that your Driver continued to flirt?”

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious? Humans usually seem to care about that kinda thing. That’s what I’ve seen from them. But he didn’t care one bit. Isn’t that surprising?” Praxis certainly did sound interested.

“I’ve personally never really understood what Humans do and don’t find appealing. What does gender have to do with attraction? It can’t just be about breeding. Humans can’t breed with Blades after all. Seems like a grand mystery to me.” And not one Theory had any particular interest in pursuing. The few times another Blade or Human had approached her in any sort of romantic light she had firmly rebuffed them. Who had time for that sort of thing anyway?

They lapsed into silence, keeping watch on their surroundings. It would be a while yet before they were relieved of duty. Scouts wouldn’t report back until much later in the day. Her eyes tilted up and sought out Roc’s form in flight, but wherever the avian Blade was she couldn’t make them out. The idea of being so high up seemed terrifying to her, but Roc had seemed excited about the opportunity to fly. That made sense. What was there to fear from heights if you could fly?

“Praxis...who do you think is stronger? Gabadon or Waldemar?” Waldemar’s banter with Vandham before their departure had given rise to that thought. If she were to fight at Waldemar’s side against Vandham and his Blade Roc, who would win? If Waldemar and Gabadon were to fight and thus have their Blades clash, between her and Praxis, which of them was stronger? Her fingers itched to reach for her katana, yet the idea of swinging it at Praxis in more than jest made her stomach turn.

“Without us in the mix? Waldemar I think. He’s a bit more vicious than my Driver. He’d want it more. Personally I think Gabadon is more skilled, but that’s not all a fight is about. If you’re asking which of us is stronger...nah, not even worth thinking about.” Had there been hesitation in Praxis’ voice, or had Theory just imagined it?

“Of all the assembled mercenaries, who do you think is the strongest? I would assume Shadrach, but Floren is a healing Blade, not an offensive one. William maybe? His Blade Byron has a strong ability from what I’ve seen.” She was certain she was faster and more agile than Byron, but his Driver was more experienced right now than Waldemar was. Could she defeat a fire Blade of his strength one on one? As a water Blade with a reach weapon Praxis might have a better chance.

Praxis’ answer wasn’t what Theory had been expecting. “Anjelo, I think.”

“Anjelo? But he came back with all of those injuries. Surely he can’t be that strong.” Theory didn’t know much about Anjelo or his Blade Mik. Because he was a freelancer and not a member of the Garfont mercenaries there hadn’t been opportunities to see them in action. Mik had casually flirted with her on the trip to Inedia, but his Driver looked frail and unintimidating. The man always had dark circles under his eyes too.

“Didn’t you hear how his name started popping up in merc circles? Anjelo solo’d the Gaspar Job.”

That got Theory’s attention. The Gaspar Job had gone uncompleted for four months after three separate attempts were made by different merc groups, all with six or more Drivers. “Are you sure? By themselves?”

“Sure as can be. Brought in Gaspar’s head in a sack. They say when Urayan soldiers went to clean up Gaspar’s base they found all of his men had been wiped out and the place was a wreck. Nobody had heard of him before that, but his name is on the map now. One of the big names to look out for. So if you ask me, he and his Blade Mik have got to be the strongest ones here.” Praxis seemed quite sure and Theory trusted her partner’s opinion. There was no one else she trusted as much. They were practically sisters. Waldemar thought their cores might even have originally come from the same Titan. 

“As weak as that Driver looks, if he and his Blade were able to accomplish a job that several Drivers together hadn’t been able to take on...then how strong is that Blade?” Praxis shrugged in response to Theory’s question. Not that she had really been expecting a proper answer.

Their conversation lagged and they resumed concentrating on their lookout duties. Like they were supposed to be doing. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that Praxis spoke again, asking, “So...what do you think about Flesh Eaters?”

“I don’t know enough to think anything.”

“Gabadon says they get their powers by eating their Drivers. That’s how they get the name.” There was a tinge of worry in Praxis’ voice. Theory didn’t like hearing it.

“If that was true then the civilian consultant would have said so.” Unless he hadn’t wanted to spook any of the mercenaries. A lot of mercs and Drivers were frightened by the very idea of Flesh Eaters. The few times she had heard the topic come up the Drivers and Blades in question had acted like they were talking about evil ghosts or something. Things that go bump in the night.

“So...if a Flesh Eater isn’t bound to a Driver, does that make them immortal?” This time Theory couldn’t judge what Praxis was thinking when she asked that question.

Theory looked down, looking at the v-shaped core on her chest. It gleamed a brilliant blue. According to Cole’s description for the scouts a Flesh Eater had a red and blue core. Immortal? What a strange thought. “Maybe. I can’t imagine that. Living forever? I think I’d go mad from boredom.”

If a Blade were to be alive for centuries, accumulating innumerable years of experiences, could they remain sane? Especially if they were constantly hunted by the Praetorium? What kind of life was that to live? Who would ever choose something so absurd?

In the end it didn’t matter. Once they found whatever Flesh Eaters were on the island they’d capture or kill them. That was the job. And mercenaries make sure the job gets done.

\---------------------

Anjelo dreamed of death. In the dream he was running in a panic, desperate to make it to the hidden exit from Gaspar’s encampment. The blonde haired Blade with the fans awaited him, two other members of Gaspar’s crew dead at his feet. Anjelo begged and pleaded for his life and the Blade with the fans just smiled enigmatically.

Behind him, in the central room of their hideout, two men slaughtered Gaspar’s crew. One with silver hair that moved faster than the eye could see and the other, dark haired and cruel, who Anjelo had seen crush a man’s head with his bare hands. Anjelo hadn’t seen Core Crystals, but they had strength that seemed impossible for Humans. Surely they had to be Blades, just like the one with the fan.

Anjelo looked back, hoping for support from the men and women who had been his support system for years now. What he saw was their leader Gaspar’s head laying halfway across the room from his body. The dark haired man reached down and picked it up, and then began to bounce it from hand to hand. “Ugly bastard ain’t he? The price on his head, you sure it’s enough to get the parts you need Mik?”

The Blade with the fan chuckled and snapped the fans together, closing them. “Should be. The cores from these people’s Blades will be useful for the project as well, but I’ll need way more to power that thing.”

None of the crew remained alive except Anjelo. He quivered on the floor, awaiting death, but these three men seemed to be ignoring him. The silver haired man shook blood from his sword and sheathed it on his back. “Is that the one you’ve chosen?”

Mik, the Blade standing above Anjelo, looked down at Anjelo as if at an insect. In that moment Anjelo was prepared to act like one if it got him out of this alive. “He practically handed himself to me on a silver platter, so yeah, he’ll do.”

The Blade squatted down in front of Anjelo and reached out to pat him on the cheek with a gloved hand. “Congrats mister. You get to live _and_ you get to be a Driver. This is your lucky day.”

With the blood of his friends and crew spreading out in thick pools on the floor behind him, Anjelo couldn’t find it within him to agree. 

Anjelo awoke in a cold sweat, perched against the stone wall of a cave. He often had that dream these last five months. It was only a matter of time before he would have to relive it. Of that he was certain. When he was no longer useful Mikhail would kill him. Anjelo hadn’t seen the other two since that fateful day and for that he was glad. Something about that dark haired man filled him with dread just imagining him. The silver haired man had killed more people, but the dark haired man had terrified him.

Gaspar’s crew hadn’t been sunshine and rainbows. They had been thieves and cutthroats. Not bandits who raided settlements. If they attacked a merchant train they’d leave anyone alive who didn’t force their hand. Despite all that, they had been his family. None of them, not even the fearsome Gaspar, a seasoned Driver, killed with the cold ease that he had seen from Mikhail.

He could still see those dreadful fans sliding through the necks of the Garfont mercenaries on their squad as they made their hasty retreat from the village. Mikhail’s expression hadn’t shifted even one iota as he cut those Drivers down. Then, calm as could be, he had collected the Core Crystals and led Anjelo into a hidden cavern in the woods. There he had forced Anjelo to bury the cores. 

Then, with that laissez-faire smile plastered on, Mikhail had pushed Anjelo up against the wall and opened his belly with one of those razor sharp fans. Anjelo had truly thought that he was finally going to die and be free. Until Mikhail started bandaging him up.

Awake again he looked around, but saw no sign of Mikhail. Moments after he stirred, Shadrach's Blade Floren appeared at his side. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Alive. I think.” As he often did, Anjelo thought about telling someone, in this case Floren, about what he was experiencing. But he was a criminal. More than that, who would believe the story of a Blade that was forcing his ‘Driver’ to act? These mercenaries believed in Flesh Eaters, but Mikhail’s core was the purest blue. They’d believe him if he brought them to the hidden Core Crystals though. Wouldn’t they?

Yet what if Mikhail had moved them? What if it was a trick? A trap that Mikhail had laid for him? To prove his ‘loyalty’. In his mind’s eye those fans sharp edges gleamed and the dark haired man loomed. And so he remained silent. 

Whatever Floren was looking for she seemed satisfied to have found. She nodded happily and stood back up. “You should be back to full strength by tomorrow. I’ll send some rations your way so eat up. That’ll help replenish your body from the toll your blood loss and the healing took on you.”

Anjelo looked around, searching for signs of one of the three men that haunted his dreams. Still nothing. “Thank you.”

Floren smiled brightly at him. “No problem! If you’re looking for Mik, don’t worry. He went out as one of the scouts.”

“On his own?”

“Yep. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine. You guys took down Gaspar, right? Shaddy figured that Mik would be tough enough to make it back okay even if the worst happens. Anyway, I’ll have that food for you shortly. Rest up!” She skipped away, so cheerful despite their forlorn surroundings.

Alone. Mikhail had gone out on a scouting mission alone. Certainly that Blade would be fine. But how many of the Garfont mercenaries would fall to his fans before he returned? 

Anjelo tried not to think about what responsibility he would have for any who died while he kept silent.

\--------------------

Cole sat quietly, contemplating the situation he had found himself in. On a Titan controlled by the Praetorium, surrounded by mercenaries again who feared Flesh Eaters. His only allies Shadrach and Floren, two of the only people on Alrest who knew his true nature. Hired on for a job to help put a stop to the activities of other Flesh Eaters.

Still, he had already made his decision. If the Flesh Eaters on Inedia were innocent and hadn’t hurt anyone, he would help them make their escape, but assist the Garfont mercs in taking down the bandits. On the other hand, if those Flesh Eaters were abusing their powers to harm others, he wouldn’t show an ounce of mercy. Whatever justice he dealt out would be far more lenient than whatever Amalthus could think up.

Tentatively he reached out to the ether around him. Day by day it was growing harder to do so consciously, like the pathways for ether to travel into his body were growing weaker. Perhaps it was like working your muscles. A man in a coma lost muscle mass and took lots of time and effort to get back to full strength. Cole spent longer and longer amounts of time without even drawing in the tiniest bit of ether. 

It was for the best. While most Blades didn’t have finely tuned enough senses to notice another Blade drawing in ether or holding ether, all it would take was one slip up around a Blade who did have that skill and he would be on the run. His life had finally started to grow simple again. He hadn’t been on the run since that last couple year stint nearly a century ago. 

His body was starting to break down and he finally looked to be an age that was hard for most people to judge. Was he in his late thirties? Mid-forties? Fifties? Early sixties? All he would need was a little practical make-up and some natural hair dyes and he could keep the charade going for decades more. A life. A proper life. He had even started writing again. 

It had been a little over five centuries since he had been Awakened. More than four and a half since the Aegis War. In that time how many lives had he lived? Too few? Too many? Enough? Even so, he couldn’t help but feel there was more for him to do. It wasn’t his time. Not yet. Maybe he was just being stubborn. A Blade’s time was up when their Driver passed on. Even for a Blade like him, shouldn’t that still hold true?

Still, maybe he was getting a little too old. If you lived long enough you started to see familiar faces everywhere. Like the blonde haired Blade with the face of a child from his past. Next he’d see Mythra’s face in a stranger walking down the street.

Cole reached into his pack and pulled out a package of salty crackers. As he chewed them he began to think of various different ways he could arrange to meet with the Flesh Eaters of Inedia face to face. After all. He was their only safe way out.

\----------------------------

The day came and went with no positive results. Scouting parties reporting back in had seen no sign of any Blades yet again. Which meant the Flesh Eaters were either hidden or appeared completely Human and had disguised their cores. Worse than that, four of the scouts and their Blades failed to report back. Further scouts spotted no signs of their missing comrades.

According to reports the villagers weren’t interacting with the bandits at all. In fact, close inspection revealed that the bandits didn’t engage in conversation with each other either. They were just standing around waiting. Occasionally they would leave their post to eat or take a break of some kind, but no talking, no drinking, no partying. No typical bandit behaviors. The villagers pointedly ignored them.

None of the villages were large enough that scouts sneaking in wouldn’t be spotted during the day, so their spies would have to wait until nightfall. Vandham made it through his dull shift of guard duty by trying to come up with some cool sounding Arts names, but even that activity bored him. Certain weapon types had classic styles designed for them by years of Drivers and Blades, all with named Arts you could practice. Roc’s unique weapon meant he had to learn a style suited just to him.

By the next morning the spies had returned and offered their reports to Shadrach. The mercenary leader addressed the information to all of them. Distant reports about the bandits’ inhuman-like behavior remained true even at night. However, one village had provided useful information. The scout assigned to sneak into this particular town had witnessed on three separate occasions bandits enter what appeared to be a small shed and never come back out. 

Even stranger, two different bandits came out of the shed later in the night. Yet the shed, even empty, couldn’t possibly have fit five people unless they were standing face to face with no distance between them. Shadrach suspected that meant one thing. A hidden entrance. To where was unclear, but he suspected there had to be a cavern system beneath that village, similar to their hiding spot.

“Here’s our problem. Even if we rush that single village with every last one of us, going   
for that shed means getting bottlenecked and heading into unknown territory. What we really need are advanced scouts. People who can go in, find out where the shed leads, and report back. Chances are wherever that thing goes is where we’ll find our Flesh Eaters. But it’s a dangerous job.” Concerned mutters filled the air. 

“After talking it over, Cole and I have come up with a strategy. I want to send in three people that the bandits and their leaders won’t suspect as being suspicious. I’m going to have you surrender.” His steely gaze stopped on each of them in turn as if weighing their guts. Vandham felt like the man lingered on him longer than the others, but it was probably his imagination.

“Think of it this way. The three who go to surrender will be those who got roped into a dangerous job that they aren’t getting paid enough for, but don’t have to worry about whether their retreat and surrender impacts the Garfont Mercenaries. If you’re willing I’d like to send two of you freelancers in to surrender. You’ll be accompanied by Cole. Two freelancers with no real ties to Garfont and a civilian consultant. Those are our best options. Even better if one of those freelancers was injured in the first night’s fighting.”

_‘Well, ain’t that something. Pretty cunning fella. Maybe it wasn’t my imagination.’_

This time when Shadrach’s gaze fell upon Vandham he was certain it was deliberate. “Vandham and Anjelo, are you willing to undertake the job? You’re some of the toughest we’ve got and you’re freelancers so you’re both perfect for this assignment. Still, it’s risky and I can’t force you to go.”

Roc looked worriedly at Vandham, but the choice was clear. Sit here in base or take on the tough job and boost his rep? Yeah, it was obvious. “I’m up for it.”

Anjelo had a quick whispered conversation with his Blade, but finally gave Shadrach his answer. “I’ll go.”

Shadrach clapped his hands together loudly. “Perfect! Now, there’s a few other details we have to go over, and then I want each of you to get a good night’s rest. In the morning you surrender.”

\--------------------

Bandits exited the village and surrounded the three of them before they got close. Vandham wasn’t surprised. They had been walking out in the open through the fields. Only someone blind wouldn’t have spotted them. Before the bandits were upon them they all raised their hands in surrender. 

They had agreed Cole would take the lead unless a situation organically came up that changed their plans. So he was the one who spoke to the bandits. “We want to surrender. These two are freelancers and I was hired on as a civilian consultant for this job. You people don’t seem to be mistreating the villagers and we’d rather take our chances in your captivity than fighting you. This job isn’t paying enough for us to risk our lives.”

One of the bandits, a man with sunken grey eyes, looked them all up and down. He made a few quick motions with his hands and the other bandits started patting Vandham and the other two down. Searching for hidden weapons or similar most likely. The man with the sunken eyes seemed to struggle for a moment, his jaw shifting awkwardly, and then he finally responded. “Are any of you Drivers?”

Cole shook his head. “If we were Drivers we’d be a little less worried about this mission. I’m afraid not.”

“Have any of you tested for the aptitude?” Vandham felt like there was something off about the fellow’s accent, but he couldn’t quite place it. Then again he’d never had an ear for them in the first place. The Gormotti and Ardainian accents had always sounded nearly identical to him, but people insisted they were quite different.

Cole was the first to respond. “No. Honestly I’d never even considered the possibility. I can’t even imagine myself as a Driver.”

Vandham felt distinctly uncomfortable as they pulled out the pockets of his cargo pants. He had already been out of sorts because he had been forced to leave his vest with its utility pouches behind, but having people rummage through his pants felt like a violation. “If I was the type to take that kinda risk, d’ya think I’d be surrendering right now?”

Anjelo shook his head vehemently. Vandham was surprised. The earnestness in the other man’s face seemed so genuine. He wouldn’t have pegged the scrawny fella for being a good actor. “No. I’ve never wanted anything to do with being a Driver.”

The other bandits finally finished searching the three of them and stepped away. Mister Sunken Eyes seemed satisfied that his men hadn’t found anything of note. Which was good, because the only thing worth finding was invisible to the naked eye. “You three will come with me.”

“Where are we going?,” asked Cole.

“You’ll be taken before our King and tested for aptitude. If you’re found lacking you’ll join the rest of us. If you want our protection that is.” He turned and started walking back to the village. The bandits prodded the three of them and forced them to march along behind Mister Sunken Eyes.

_‘King eh? Bandit King...or are we talking something else? Flesh Eater maybe?’_

Anjelo asked the obvious follow up question that Vandham hadn’t even considered. “And if we do have the aptitude?”

None of the bandits gave them an answer or said another word, even as they were led into the shed and then down into a hallway carved into the stone-like body of the Titan. Down and down they went, into the Titan’s body. 

To meet with the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it comes up, no Byron is not a significant character. He's an original Blade that's a way way background character in my longer running fic, An Eternal History. Just one of those minor things I wanted to mix in. On the other hand, Beast-Hunter William is a Unique Enemy in XBC2 that can be found at Olethro Playhouse. He has a fire element greataxe Common Blade, so I created Byron to replace that Common Blade while keeping his element and weapon the same. 
> 
> Also, we have zero clue how old Amalthus was during TTGC, but since we know the Indoline age fairly slowly I put him at around fifty plus. Questor seems to be a fairly significant rank so I assumed he had to have been around for a while, although his rank probably got a bump thanks to Malos.

**Author's Note:**

> While this work is canon to the timeline presented in my other story An Eternal History it isn't "required reading" in order to understand or appreciate that work.


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